


Villain?

by HoodedFigure_99



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Don’t judge me on my romancey feels, Eventual Smut, F/M, Let me fluff n smut in peace, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, your character is an A+ dancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodedFigure_99/pseuds/HoodedFigure_99
Summary: After performing for a group, you feel a strange set of eyes on you. Is he sizing you up, or perhaps enjoying the view? You need to know.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn I’m sorry, will lead to eventual smut. This fic is breaking me in weird places :p

“Like what you see, _villain_?” You chuckle at the taller man before you. Typically he looks mostly unperturbed, but today you can swear you see a semblance of a blush creep up on his face. It’s only there for a brief second before he recollects himself.

“Villain? I am hurt, Warrior.” He dramatically raises a hand to his chest. “Truly wounded.” His gold hued eyes look you up and down and he hums appreciatively. “And the answer you’ll receive is in fact _yes_.”

This time it was you who takes a step back in shock. To be fair, you thought, the outfit the troupe from Thavnair gave you left little to the imagination. To allow freedom of movement, you mused. You liked it, but during this last performance you felt more observed than usual, someone was admiring you more for than just the dance you performed.

“You look shocked, why? Am I not allowed to drink in the sight of a sinfully _gorgeous_ Miqo’te, dancing her heart out even though she knows the dangerous road before her?”

You feel your cheeks burn at his compliment. “Emet…” you say softly, and look away.

He lets out a loud chuckle. ”Of all things, this is what makes you shy?” His eyes hold a playful gleam in them. Seeing him with his smirk and bright eyes sets your stomach and heart into butterflies, and you find it hard to not swoon for him. Especially when he just admitted he found you attractive. _He called you gorgeous_, you correct yourself.

“Did you at least enjoy the performance?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Immensely. Would it be forward of me to ask for a _private_ performance? Perhaps in 3 hours, in your room?”

Again, you step back in shock, but your heart is beating in your ears and you can’t hear yourself reply; “Bring some wine and I’ll consider it.”


	2. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you sure he’ll show? He is an Ascian, you know. Why did you accept? Why is he going to be in your room? By the twelve, did you even clean?!  
Maybe he just wants to see those sweet skills. Also I think he may like your ears but that’s just a guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter, now with more fluff!

You pace your room, anxiety knotting your stomach. You’ve splashed water on your face at least 3 times, picked up errant pieces of armor you’d left in a corner of the room, and even haphazardly made your bed. When you finish, you mentally berate yourself for getting so worked up over someone, _ especially _ Emet-Selch, of all people. You try to relax, thinking that he’d not show up, as Ascians are notorious for spewing falsehoods. 

When you hear the unmistakable sound of a portal opening behind you, your heart jumps into your throat. You clench a fist and try to calm your breathing. _ He’s here. He actually showed up. _

“Do you think I am a liar, warrior? You wound me once more.” You spin to meet his gaze, the chains and links on your outfit clinking softly. He winks at you, and proffers a bottle of _ something. _ “Wine, as requested.” As he hands the bottle to you, his gloved fingers make brief contact with your hands and your heart skips a beat. _ Why… _ you wonder.

“Thanks…” You reply sheepishly and turn away from him, trying to busy yourself with the wine bottle and the hunt for glasses. 

“Did you forget who you’re dancing with, my dear?” You hear his voice behind you, followed by a hearty laugh and a snap. On the table beside you, two glasses appear. You sigh and look back at him, though his smile turns to a brief “oh”, before his face smooths out into his familiar smirk. You make a note in your head to ask him what that face was for, but now was not the time. You manage to pop the cork, and begin to pour some out between the two glasses. You delicately grab both of them and offer one to your company. He takes the glass gently, his fingers touching yours, but this time he leaves them there. Your temperature rises about 5 degrees, beginning in your cheeks, and blooming to the rest of your body. Your ears twitch slightly along with your tail, and the Ascian laughs at your reaction. After what feels like an eternity with his hand on yours, he breaks the connection to raise his glass up.

“To what shall we toast?” He eyes you, admiring you again like he had done earlier, this time his eyes showing hunger and _ something else _, but you weren’t quite sure what you’d seen. 

“A.. a toast…” Your words stagger from your lips, and your mind tries to come up with something worthwhile. “To saving the First and the Source,” you manage to say. A slight frown plays upon Emet-Selch’s face. He wants to say something, but he stops himself, begrudgingly tapping his glass to yours. 

“Yes. To that.” He places his lips on the glass and takes a small sip. You watch him briefly, becoming increasingly flustered by just watching him drink. You immediately bring your glass up to your own mouth and take a bit deeper of a drink. Emet-Selch’s eyebrow raises quizzically. “No need to down the whole glass, my dear. We have all night.” He steps closer to you, the heat of his body merging with yours. Everything inside you starts beating like a drum. His free hand gently grasps your elbow as he leans down to whisper into your ear. “I love seeing you like this.” A shiver rolls down your spine and he breaks the contact shortly after. Your tail swishes quickly, an obvious sign to anybody of your agitation. 

“Like what?” You ask coyly, trying to will your tail to stop. 

“Like you are now, hero.” His smile has widened. “Flustered, worked up. And to think, this time it’s my doing…” He sips nonchalantly on his wine, while you quickly finish your glass. The Ascian clucks his tongue at you in false disappointment. You place your glass down onto the table before gazing back to the tall man before you. “You know,” he muses, his eyes still focused on you. “You very much remind me of someone I knew. In Amaurot.” A sliver of something plays along his face. You think it’s sadness, but the look soon fades and you’re left with a half smirk once more. You tense up, even with the glass of wine working its way through you. “I apologize, I don’t mean to make you _ that _ uncomfortable. Come, show me a dance and then I’ll show you one of my own.”

You blinked. _ Emet-Selch knows how to dance? _ Shaking your head, you remind yourself that many people dance and you’re sure he is no exception. He’s been around for a long time after all. “Let… let me get some music ready.” You quickly move to the orchestration podium and select a lively tune, one that you found worked very well with the moves you’ve learned. Stepping aside to an area with room, you stretch quickly before the music begins. Emet-Selch moves one of the chairs beside the table to point at you before setting himself down. 

When the music starts, you begin the moves right on beat, the chains and links providing an extra jingle with the music. You lose focus of the Ascian for once, losing yourself to your job, losing yourself to the rhythm. By the time you realize the music has stopped, you’re slightly red in the face and Emet-Selch has stood up, providing a small golf-clap to your performance. 

“You give everything your all, don’t you, my dear?” There’s something in his voice that has you give pause. It’s so hard to read him sometimes. Scratch that: all the time. You bow courteously toward him, beginning the walk to the table to pour a fresh glass of wine. He still sips lazily from his own, though he teasingly swipes his upper lip with his tongue, eyes playfully glinting at you as he does so. You feel your ear twitch with the heat that starts rising again. You’re finding it hard to concentrate on pouring and you sigh dejectedly. Suddenly you feel heat pressed behind you, followed by a pair of hands brushing against your arms. This time your tail swishes, unused to the closeness of anybody, _ especially _him. 

“Need some help?” He whispers against your ear, sending the prickling heat of his breath against not only your hair and skin, but into the fuzzy hairs of your ear, and it’s nigh impossible to _ not _ let out a small moan of surprise. Your reaction causes him to chuckle, his hands moving to the glass and bottle first, before teasing you further. “Oh, I think you may have _ liked _ that?” He continues, pouring the wine and watching your ears flutter with his breath. He places the refreshed glass in your hand, before moving his hand up to gently play with your hyper-sensitive ears. Initially, you try to have your ears move and avoid his touch, but he was ever persistent, and his hand finds its mark, briefly brushing over the smooth hairs. You nearly melt right there. As he strokes your ears and examines them with a perverse curiosity, you have to focus on your wine glass, to ensure your grip won’t shatter it and waste the precious liquid it holds. When you feel his breath back on your ear, you shiver, and when he playfully _ nibbles _ on one, you unconsciously buck your hips right back into him. 

He laughs softly, moving his arms to enclose them around your waist. _ A bold move _ , you think. His chin rests on your shoulder, his breath still prickling at your skin. “Mayhap you _ really _ liked that.” 

“_Mayhap _ I did,” you sigh, taking your free hand to place it atop his. Neither of you budge an inch. A long, silent moment passes before he breaks the contact first. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” He says quietly, slowly spinning you by the waist to face him. You look up at him briefly, before downing the glass of wine in one fell swallow, placing it back on the table behind you. 

You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath, when you reply, “Of course,” with a heady exhale. Emet-Selch wastes no time, grabbing your hip with one hand, and taking your left hand with his right, keeping you close to him. Your heart flutters again, and you secretly worry if you need to see a healer for some unknown heart condition. He maneuvers your right hand onto his shoulder, while his voice and a snap rings through the fog in your mind. The music changes to a slow, almost mournful tune.

“Follow me.” He states curtly, beginning his steps, and closely watching yours. You manage to follow along, learning the steps easily, and you feel a faint tugging at your memory. _ You’ve danced like this before _ . The moves, the warm body pressed next to you, even the _ scent _ of him sends your mind reeling, memories flooding into you as you both spin around in your room. 

“_ Hades… _” you whisper, eyes half lidded. His eyes widen in shock.

“What...what did you call me?” He asks, barely hiding the tremor in his voice. 

“Hades…” you repeat, a little louder this time. Your hand moves of its own accord from his shoulder, to gently stroke the soft skin of his cheek, your thumb tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones. There was no glimmer of mischief or glibness in his eyes, the gold tone in them only muted slightly.

“You, you _ remember _.” A soft sigh passes his lips. His hand moves from your hip to rest above your hand on his cheek. “You remember now.” A crackling in his voice. “Thousands of years,” his voice is soft, almost barely audible. “Thousands of years I’ve waited…” Both of you have stopped stepping the old dance, locked in each other’s eyes, forgetting time and space around each of you. 

“Has it truly been that long?” You ask, blinking in confusion. He lets out a strange laugh, a blend between a real laugh and a choked cry. 

“Yes!” He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, moving them to hover over his heart. The drumbeat of your heart almost drowns out the feel of his own beat. His other hand wraps around your waist and pulls you tighter to him. His warmth gives off the sense of both relief and incredible loneliness. 

“I’ve…I’ve been away too long, haven’t I?” You ask sheepishly. He lets out another choked laugh. 

“You were always on your own timetable,” he chortles softly. Looking up again, you find the impossible: tears beginning to form around his eyes, bringing a sparkling quality to them. Your heart leaps into your throat again, and you’re quite unsure of what to say. As if he can read your thoughts, he replies; “You don’t need to say a word.” 

Suddenly his nose is at yours, and time is wiped away; your eyes shut as soon as his lips meet yours. The kiss ignites a fire inside you, your skin sparks with electricity. To think this Ascian could have such an impact on you, but the thought is wiped away with the impending brain fog of need and desire.

_ This Ascian. My Ascian. Hades, my love... _


	3. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heated between the pair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter i feel is a little suffering, but I’m still liking it. It’s the intro to the smut so consider this a pre-warning. Also, massive headache so the NSFW part won’t be written today.

When his lips retreat from yours, a faint hum of sadness breaks from your throat. Opening your eyes, you find he is still precariously close to your face, the tears that had been forming in his eyes now steadier, leaving small shining streaks down his cheeks. His grip on you is still tight, afraid of letting you go. You can feel his heart pounding through his chest, and you can feel a blush spreading all over your face.

“I…” he starts, however for the first time in weeks he can’t bring himself to say anything. Unable to control yourself, you lift up and kiss him again, moving your hand to cradle the back of his head and aim him down toward you. He reciprocates, and although the kiss is still delicate, fragile even, there’s more of a hunger behind this one. He steps forward, causing you to unconsciously step backward as to not teeter over. He repeats this a few times until you can feel the bed against the backs of your legs, and you end up falling backwards and breaking the kiss. 

“Emet, no,  _ Hades… _ ” you correct yourself, watching his tall form hover over you before he lowers himself before you, his hands pressing lightly upon your knees. Your tail cuts wide semi-circles on the sheets behind you, and your hands grip his.

“I’m right here,” he says, moving your legs to allow him closer access to you, entwining your and his fingers together again. He takes the other hand and begins pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, working his way up your arm in an almost reverent fashion. 

Stuff like that never really got you going, per se, but something about him specifically doing it sent shivers down your spine. “I missed you so, so much…” he says between kisses. 

“ _ Hades…”  _ you purr, as he eases his way up toward your shoulder, rising up from where he’d knelt. His kisses stop suddenly, and you yelp as he scoops you into his arms. He navigates you toward the center of your bed, before gently setting you down and crawling atop you to renew his attentions to your bare skin. Your hands rest on his shoulder as he comes closer, taking you in for another deep kiss. 

You let out an uncharacteristic moan into his mouth as one of his hands has found your ears and begins playing with them. He releases you from his kiss, a smirk playing along his lips. “I am absolutely fascinated by this form you’ve taken.” 

Despite the blush covering your entire face at this point, you let out a laugh. “You’re the only one I’ll let touch my ears, I hope you know that.”

“The highest privilege,” he jokes back, before going back to petting and caressing your ears.

You bring your hands up to his chest and chuckle between small gasps and purrs.

“Just be careful with my tail,” you whisper.

“Your tail, hmm,” he looks down at you with that all too familiar mischievous look. He breaks eye contact enough to look down and find your tail. “It looks rather inviting to touch.” He grins, while he frees up a hand to work its way down to your tail. He doesn’t immediately go for it though, his light touches exploring your skin. First he teases your sides, and your breath catches in your throat. He pauses, mostly to grin and admire you and how you respond to him. But something else is bothering him. He takes a bit of fabric from his glove between his teeth, and tugs lightly, slowly dragging it off of his hand and tossing it aside. He switches his stance and does the same with his other hand. “Much better,” he coos, and resumes exploring your skin with his now exposed fingertips. 

A soft sigh escapes your lips when he touches you again, a familiar warm feeling spreading through your body. His fingers trace ever downward, tickling your thighs briefly, and his hand hovers precariously close to the cleft between your legs. You bite your lip, and he gives you a grin. He clearly loves toying with you, and you realize this yet again as he finally moves, gently brushing your tail with his fingers. You gasp when he actually grabs it; gently of course, and you purr when he begins to pet it. 

“I can see why you would say to be careful,” he says, obviously relishing in the feel of the tail fur on his fingers. A wicked grin flashes across his face. “However, I wonder what would happen if I were to do…this.” He gently tugs at your tail, and you let out a cry, the sensation of ecstatic pain shoots up your spine. 

“_Oh_,” his grin never leaves. “I think I truly enjoy this version of you.” He releases your tail, and continues with the teasing of his fingertips on the rest of you. 

You try to glare at him, but can’t find it in you. You’re utterly entranced by his movements, lost in the gold and amber hues in his eyes. “You tease me so…” you manage to say, while attempting to sit yourself up. 

Emet-Selch clucks his tongue at you, ceasing his teasing. He crawls back over you; truly looking like a hunter cornering his prey, and presses you back down. He leans forward and captures you in another kiss, full of need, desire, and something else you can’t pin down. Was it longing? Loneliness? You aren’t sure. His moods are always hard to read. Again, you wrap your arms around him, thriving off the contact. You end up breaking the kiss first, panting out a husky “Off,” while tugging at his regalia. 

“As you desire,” he chuckles and snaps his fingers. Most of his clothes dissipate, and you drink in his form. He may have looked scrawny while clothed, but bared before you he was more muscular than you thought. Your hand unconsciously reaches out to paw at his abs, trying to bridge the distance between the two of you. His hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Now, it’s your turn.”


End file.
